Page 124 of The Vanishing Place
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When she woke up, there was no food. No water. Nothing to clean herself with.
There was no food the next day either. Just a small jug of water.
On the third day, dehydrated and filthy, Effie reached under the bed and grabbed the Bible. As she held the small book, tears trickled down her cheeks, and the thick drips of salt congealed on her parched tongue. She hated that she needed him. That without him, she would starve, that her stomach and head and bones would ache with it, and she would die. Trembling, she opened the cover and flicked to the first of the bookmarked pages. Each contained a strip of paper and an underlined passage.
1 Corinthians 11:3—The head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband.
Effie flicked to the next one. Then the next.
1 Timothy 2:12—I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.
Shaking, and not willing to read any more, she tossed the book aside. Her thoughts churned, hot and thick and confused, and a tightness spread through her chest.
“Hello.”
A voice echoed in the void between Effie’s ears, lost in the mess of her thoughts.
“Hello.”
The voice again—female. Soft and far away. Real. Perhaps.
“Are you there?”
The voice dragged Effie from the tar in her head, and she blinked the darkened room back into view. Then she pulled her shattered self toward the door.
“Hello,” she panted. “Yes, hello. I’m here.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes.” Effie’s heart thumped. “Yes.”
She waited. But there was no reply.
“Hello.” She strained against the chain. “Are you still there?”
There was a shuffling of feet. Then silence.
“Please,” Effie begged. “Please. I just want to talk.”
But the woman had gone, and Effie was alone again.
Rotting in the dark.
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In the morning, there was food. It must have been slipped through the door when Effie was asleep. Food and water and basic cleaning supplies.
1991
Adam balled hisfists, his body hot and angry, as he stomped across the park.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Dinah spun around, so fast that the roundabout wobbled.
“Nothing,” she said.
